Beyond Defining
by i'llwait
Summary: Roy x Rizatheir relationship is truly beyond defining...royai 100 themes...a mix of subtle, sweet, and sad.
1. 1 Military Personnel

okay, well, i asked floOfymikO for the 100 themes because i was fishing for ideas and thanks to her, i now have the master list...starting this is not a promise i will finish it (i probably won't), and just because i started with number 1 does not mean i will go in order (though i'll try)...so here it goes...i present to you:**  
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**001. Military Personnel**

Ah the military…blood and guts and fire and ashes, bombs and smoke, dreams of fiends with red eyes…

It was amazing, how much chaos could come of such strict order.

Which was why he, personally, didn't believe in it. Order? Psh…order was for wusses…and Riza Hawkeye, he added.

He kicked his feet up onto his desk and considered his lieutenant. She glanced up and he shivered. Amazing how a warm color like the amber of her eyes could freeze your soul, he thought.

His feet were back on the ground, and the pen in his hand, and he looked at it surprised—had it become a conditioned reflex now? Hawkeye looks at me and I start shaking?

Disgusting…

And yet, there was something awe-inspiring about a man in uniform—so he told himself, since the women couldn't resist him—and something sexy about dating a colonel—if only Riza would think about that before she rejected his four hundred and eighty-sixth offer to walk her home in the evening…no, he'd asked her again yesterday, hadn't he? He opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook, adding another mark to the pages of them he had, all in neat rows, each fifth tally crossed over the other four, six groups to a line, with the running total of each line written in the side margin.

Who said men weren't sentimental?

But somewhere in between the bombs and the fire, he'd made more loyal friends than he had ever felt he deserved, one of whom had died for him, another who would never hesitate to do so.

And over the sound of cannonfire, he'd fallen slowly in love, with the most beautiful pair of legs he'd ever seen once in his life—if only she'd wear a miniskirt one of these days…he'd convince her, just like he'd walk her home some time.

He wasn't sure when it happened (was it the time she'd nearly died for the eight time, or was it when he was sick with a fever and she held a gun to his head to make sure he wouldn't fall behind on his paperwork?), or if he'd ever really not loved her (she used to be nothing more than a fair presence while he was learning, a beautiful distraction).

And between gunshots—of which, to be fair, she was responsible for a rather large fraction—and criminals, he'd never really had the chance to seduce her like he knew he could…it would just take one tender moment, and it would be forever…

But not now…for now, they were just military personnel—the colonel and the lieutenant, or more accurately, the slacker and his "motivator," Mustang and Hawkeye…he wasn't sure he was ready yet, to take that step, though the path was waiting.

For now, he'd let it be.

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A/N--so, love it, hate it, flame it, even, it's all good as long as you give me a reason. i don't mind nitpicky people, so if you see something that needs to be fixed, please point it out to me so that i can fix it in my original document, and maybe if there are enough mistakes (which i hope there isn't) i'll reupload it. i will NEVER accuse you of flaming if you are pointing out each and individual mistake in my writing. i may not agree with you for all of them, especially if they're part of the writing style, but i will still be happy you let me know.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my work in the past, and hopefully you'll do so again. If you leave me more than a few words, i'll reply to you! (which is exciting, right?)

lastly, i do not own fma, as much as that would contribute greatly to my current funds, which are in the negative right now...


	2. 2 Gunshot

**a/n -- i have nothing to say but...**

**REVIEW!**

002. Gunshot

Funny, how he used be afraid of guns…

She had known that, the bitch, when she had chose her weapon. She'd threatened him every time she'd had the chance…

Old habits died hard, he thought wryly, glancing up the barrel of a gun.

"Sorry," he said bracingly, and held her gaze as the gunshot echoed around the small room.

He smiled happily.

The first time she'd threatened to shoot him, he'd frozen and screamed when he heard the shot, and still, he couldn't help ducking.

Yet now, he merely smiled at her anger, at the gun in her hands, at the expression on her face…it was so…cute…

He grinned mentally—so many gunshots so close to his head must have finally driven him insane if a thought like that dared enter his head. It was dangerous for one's health to fall in love with a sharpshooter, he thought, but then he'd always loved the fast life, now hadn't he?

He reached out and caught her hand and lowered the gun slowly.

"I said I was sorry," he said. "You'll ruin my apartment."

She let him lower her arm, let him pull her close and kiss her, let him breathe in the scent of oil and gunpowder and lilac. Not because she couldn't stop him—or maybe she couldn't—but because she didn't want to.

It was so familiar, he thought, just like that damn hair clip, the eyes that looked through his soul, the smell of her shampoo permeating through everything he owned when she stayed over, standing in the bathroom and just breathing in when he left, his eyes closed, a ridiculously happy smile on his face.

She was just like her guns, really--cold and hard and frightening at first sight. She'd scared him just as badly as the gun she always had at her side. He hated the crack of the fire, the click of the safety, the louder click of the trigger--the mechanical sounds that chilled him. But he'd come to learn...she was beautiful when her eyes softened...and that damn gun was safe in her hands, like a lion tamed--dangerous, but inactive. He'd come to trust her when she was gentle, come to realize that as much as she threatened him, she'd never hurt him. It was an easy thing to think, but a hard thing to believe when she stared at him with bloody murder in her amber eyes, and that damn gun was pointing right at his heart...He'd come to learn to make her smile, all over again, for there was a time after Ishbal that nobody knew of because she'd hidden it so damn well, where her soul had been just as shattered as his, where she walked around cold and hard as a diamond, and just as lively. He'd chipped through, found her heart, gained her trust--and in the process had found something so wonderful it frightened him still. She was beautiful, but god, she was slightly dangerous...he wondered somehow, with both their pride and both their stubborn stupidity, how it had ever happened...yet it had happened so easily.

It was funny, he thought, how easily he had come to love the sound of the gunshot as much as he loved the girl who shot the gun.

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**Well, there you are, i tried my hand at a little fluff, not too sappy, i hope, but a little bit. Tell me how you like it (personally, i don't like this one, but that's just me...as always, i love reviews, even ones with criticism and corrections. i actually like those more than the ones that just leave "great job!" and nothing else. i wanna know what parts you guys like, hate, don't care at all about because it was so blah that it should be shot and sent to the graveyard...:D**


	3. 3 Battlefield

HehHeh—angst, pure and wholesome food for the soul...

**003.** Battlefield

He teetered, always, on the verge of mental collapse, as his deeds verged on cruelty, as his lust for promotion required more and more of his sanity.

_How could a man, any man, watch as a woman threw herself into danger for him?_

It was meaningless to romance her, to wine her and dine her as he had done so many other women in the city. What point was there in walking on the curb to protect her from the splash of the street, when it was she who would gladly take a bullet for him? What point was there in asking for her hand if he couldn't protect her from his own ambition?

_But how could he give up his ambitions? It was all that kept every action he'd ever taken, everything he'd done since he'd joined this rat's nest, justifiable. Maes' death…God, how could he ever give that up?_

Not even for her could he walk away from the promises of his soul. Some things were stronger than love, stronger than the pull of his heart when she smiled at him. Some things were only right.

_But god, he wanted her, he wanted her like the selfish bastard he knew he was, the selfish bastard that he kept hidden within himself. And no matter how hard it was to stay away from her, he refused to go down that path._

But he couldn't stray too far. How many times had he thought about, no, decided that he was going to transfer her? It was probably the only paperwork that she hadn't forced him to fill out, the neat stack of papers at the bottom of the leftmost pile in the second drawer on the right side of his desk. All that it required was his signature and seal.

_How many times had he sworn to himself that he would push her away? Hurt her so badly that she would never look at him again? It wouldn't be difficult. There were a thousand different ways._

But she would forgive him. She always forgave him, always knew what exactly he was trying to do. She could always see his inner motives.

_All he wanted was to keep her safe, yet the very nature of everything he had done, from joining the military to falling in love with her, everything pushed her closer to what he feared the most. _

But he would never sign the forms for her transfer. He knew it even as he promised himself that he would. Because the truth was, he needed her, just as much as he needed to become Fuhrer. She kept him sane in the present, reminded him of what he needed so he could ease his soul in the future.

_He wanted her, but some things were bigger than just the two of them. _

She kept him sober, she kept him thinking clearly, acting wisely. Just her presence could calm him, and yet the thought that his decisions put her life on the line drove him crazy again.

And so he stood, at the brink of disaster, being pushed both ways by the winds of sweet and bittersweet reason.

_It was like having a gun pointed at his head, knowing it would kill him, yet being unable to duck before circumstance pulled the trigger. His heart was a battlefield, Black verses White, like a bloody war of identities. _

He needed her, and he would kill her because of it.

A/N—well, finally, there you are. I promised some of my awesome reviewers a serious fic, and here it is. Now, review, damn you :P Yes, I know that I completely erased Riza's own will here. But I honestly think that the one thing that the Colonel could do to hurt her would be to push her away, especially after what they've been through together. Plus, if Mustang transferred her, there wouldn't be much she could do about it. Disagree with me? That's what the review button is for :D

(next one will be mostly serious again, slight angst, but not too heavy, promise)


	4. 4 Grave

**ha ha, my birthday is on march 10! i might post and i might not, but i'm hittin the big 20! so as a present...  
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review, please! especially those of you on author alert who i haven't heard from yet. i accept annonymous reviewers, so if you don't feel like telling me to my face it sucks, go ahead and do one of those... **

**quick note: please remember that maes hughes currently outranks roy mustang, since he was double promoted for his death **

**A bit of self-introspection…  
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"Good morning, Sir," he said.

The gravestone didn't reply.

Roy Mustang sighed and flopped back onto the grass besides the grave and stared up into the sky.

"Well, Maes, it's a lovely day."

The gravestone didn't comment.

"Hey! You! Get off the grass!" he sighed as he heard the shout and lifted his head up to see the caretaker. The man stopped as he realized who it was and waved his hand at him. Roy grinned up into the sky. He was much too regular of a customer at the flower-shop to be told off here. "That's called irony," he told the gravestone.

The gravestone didn't chuckle with him, but then, maybe gravestones just don't get the joke.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was peaceful here—there was no need for him to be incessantly strong or stupidly cheerful, no Riza to nag about papework, no date of the week demanding to know why he hadn't answered her eighteen phone calls, no bottles of liquor calling his name…

Very peaceful...a slightly morbid way of spending his Sunday, but it was peaceful.

He didn't know if he had fallen asleep, but he opened his eyes when a shadow fell on him. "Uncle Roy," came Elysia's voice. "You look silly."

_Oh, how she's grown, Maes,_ he thought sadly. "Come here, Elysia-chan," he said, and Elysia happily plopped into his lap. "Morning, Gracia," added, smiling up at the woman even as his heart tightened with guilt. _She looks so tired these days. It's so hard for a single mother…find her someone to take care of her, Maes, from up there._

"It's near noon, Roy," Gracia said, kneeling to place the little bouquet on her husband's grave, next to his own. "How long have you been here?"

"Hm? Oh for a while now," he said, wrapping his arms around the child. There was a strange comfort in holding Elysia. Proof, maybe, that Maes had existed. There was a wholesome warmth that came from her, from her giggle, her squirm, and her half-hearted protest that Uncle Roy was squeezing too tight.

Gracia sighed and sat down next to him. "You look good with a child in your lap," she said quietly.

Roy laughed. "Are you channeling Maes, by any chance?"

She smiled. "He was right about that you know."

"I know. That's why it made me so angry."

They sat for a little while in companionable silence—they had done this enough times that it was no longer awkward. Elysia sprang out of his lap to go running around, chasing butterflies and petting small dogs. Finally, Gracia called out to her daughter, smiled at Roy one last time, and left.

"I'm sorry, Maes," he whispered, watching them go. "I'm so sorry."

The pain had faded somewhat, leaving just the emptiness. "Why did you have to be so damn good at your stupid desk job?" His hand curled into a fist as he tried to imagine Maes walking off with his family. It was all too easy.

"And you know, it's not just you. Take Riza for example—" Here, alone, he could afford himself the luxury of saying her name. "—she'd die for me. She's told me that. Brieda, Fury, Hallman…they'd stick with me, no matter what. If I asked them today, listen to me, not the Fuhrer, they wouldn't even have to think about it. Armstrong violated orders to tell me information about your death. Damn it, Hughes. What in the world are they thinking?"

And suddenly the anger just left him, like a boy letting go of an untied balloon. "Why are they betting their lives on me?"

The gravestone offered no answer.

The Colonel laughed. "Sometimes, I think Ed's the only sane one. At least he wouldn't die for me." What about him inspired such confidence? What about him inspired so much loyalty that a man had left the only place he had a chance of being safe to make a phone call, only to die, just to protect him from his knowledge?

Damn them.

Damn them for putting the world on his shoulders and then expecting him to hold it steady. Damn them for standing around him like living armor, a barrier.

Damn Riza for smiling at him the way she did, infuriating and beautiful, and saying, ever so softly, "Colonel, some things are better left unspoken, at least, for now."

But there was no malice behind it, no power.

He sighed.

"Hughes," he whispered quietly. "What happens if I let go of the world? Or if I drop it accidentally? I do so many things wrong, Maes—you wouldn't have died if I had known more about what you were doing. What if, next time, it's Havoc? Or Alphonse? What if I send him somewhere and something happens to that little seal? Or Riza?" His voice died there, and he stopped.

He leaned back again and stretched, staring up into the blue sky.

"Maes," he said. "I'll still do it, you know. Become Fuhrer. And I'll get married too, just like you wanted me to. I'll ask her the very same day. And she'll be happy, I know it. We'll get married here, right in front of this damn gravestone, and you can watch us, and rest happy. I'll even ask Elysia-chan to be the flower girl, no matter how old she is. And I'll take a million pictures of her, and laminate them and stick them on your stupid gravestone, so you can brag about your cute daughter, even in death. I'll stick them on every single board at the office, and carry them in my wallet, and force people to look at them. I'll say, look, look at this cute little girl, she's my best friend's daughter, isn't she amazing? Just for you…"

He stood up and brushed the grass of his body. He turned and bowed quietly to the grave.

"But in return, you'll have to watch over everyone for me, especially—especially Riza. Please... Or else, I won't brag about Elysia."

He saluted, and left.

From behind the gravestone, Maes Hughes smiled. "You drive a hard bargain, Roy, but I'll do the best I can."

**um...oops...that really wasn't royai, was it? aw well, there's implied royai in there. kind of went a different direction than i wanted it to. kept on thinking, riza will be there from the beginning, but that wasn't right, and then i thought she'd find him there and take him home...but riza just didn't belong in this one. its hard to think of, but they are separate entities, and roy just needed some alone time :D **


	5. 5 Heiki and Heiki

**A/N--First and foremost, i want to thank everyone for the birthday wishes. I wanted to go out to a club, but my girlfriend insisted that i'm not read for that, so ah well...;P my friends threw me a surprise party--i say surprise because they haven't bothered in previous years, and it makes me happy that they cared this time...i only have one thing to say about the entire day--ICE CREAM CAKES ARE FRIGGIN AMAZING...enough said...  
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**I'm sorry if I interpreted this next one wrong, but I really was stuck on ideas for this. I've seen several translations of the following words, where weapon is always weapon, but fine is also translated as all right and calm. I'm not sure which one is the literal correct translation, since i couldn't find the original kanji and have my mom look at it, so if I chose the wrong one, I apologize in advance. Thanks for understanding!**

**005.** Heiki (weapon) & Heiki (fine)

There were days, even when her face was perfectly composed, when she felt like crying.

She wouldn't, she knew she wouldn't, but there were times when she thought she might just break down and spill her anxiety, her frustration into the world.

It was those days when he looked at her, and he saw nothing but the lieutenant, the days when it was so hard to love him, the days when he acted on his own, when she wasn't sure what he was planning, yet had to trust him all the same.

Like she was just a soldier among thousands, just a human weapon.

She had to remind herself so many times that it was necessary, that it was difficult for him, much more so than it was for her, that if he saw her as a woman, a friend, he wouldn't be able to do the job that he needed to do. It was right, it was all right, she told herself. It was necessary—it was fine.

Yet there were days when she hated him for calling her Hawkeye, instead of Riza, although she knew she would chastise him if he dared to do otherwise. And she wanted to take her weapon and sit on the top of a building, aim, and take out those girls he went out with, letting him see just the slightest flash of blonde hair as she left the scene casually, just to remind him of what she supposedly meant to him. And there were days when she longed to break down and pull him close and kiss the hell out of him, because she could, and because she knew he wanted it.

But she backed away, removed her eyes carefully from him, and reminded herself of how professional she had to be. She had to keep him on track, she had to drown her own pains in the unshed tears she felt made out of--because she had to be strong for him.

She had to forget Ishbal, she had to pretend that she didn't scream just as loudly as he did at night, she had to wake up with only a few hours of restless sleep and look fresh and sweet for him. She had to be by his side, cold and unforgiving, yet warm and gentle with him, depending on what he needed. It was so damn hard to find that exact balance between the two, so damn hard to find the exact place where Riza stopped and Hawkeye began, and that place they met for a brief second was who she had to be with him at work. She was his lieutenant, ageless, unchanging, the only constant in his life. But he never knew what it cost her, to remain that way, to push aside the burdens of her own soul to shoulder his. He never realized how much emotion ran through her body, underneath the facade she had built for him, so he could lean on her.

And when he broke down, she was the one who would wade into his soul, pick up the pieces, and put him back together.

She couldn't afford tears.

She was First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

As long as she had a weapon in her hand, and Roy to protect, she would be fine.

She had to be fine.

**A/N—well, this was the first one that I did from the perspective of Riza instead of Roy, so tell me if you felt it was true to her character. I'm not sure about whether or not it is, but it's for you to decide. I had quite a bit of trouble with this one—it's a very hard theme. Very ambiguous and yet extremely narrow. Hope you like it, I think I do.**

**Yes, we don't picture Riza as angsty, because if you think about it, in the manga, she never shows any emotion. Even Roy cries. And so this is dedicated to the side of Riza we know exists, yet we never see, because she has to be strong for him.**

** on a different note, thank you to Tressa-san, for not minding how horribly similar my title is to her own. She says she doesn't mind (as long as i don't start ripping off her stories ;), but i am thinking of changing the title to 100 ways to ask for a review...speaking of...ahem... :P **


	6. 6 Death

**this assumes that roy and riza had a relationship in the past rather than are having one currently or will have on in the future, takes place directly after Ishbal**.

**any wagers on who dies? **

**A. maes**

**B. riza**

**C. roy**

**D. Mr. Hawkeye**

**E. none of the above**

**006.** Death

"Well," she said softly. "I signed the papers today."

He said nothing.

"Roy," she said gently, and his name from her lips made his eye twitch slightly as he valiantly controlled his anger.

She came around to him and pressed herself against his stiff body. "Roy," she whispered against his neck, and gasped as he jerked her head up, kissing her hard, pressing her against himself more than a little roughly. "Roy," she breathed, as she felt the warmth of his mouth press against her throat.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered against her skin. "Damn it, why are you doing this to me?"

She disentangled herself from him and forced him to look at her. "Because I love you."

"But that's stupid."

"If I were a man would you think I was stupid?"

He stared at her.

"If I were a man and I wanted to protect you, would you think I was crazy?" Her voice was soft now, pleading with him.

"But if we do this…if you do this…"

"We're over."

"Isn't that contradictory? You're killing us to protect me?"

"Am I killing us?"

"It's the end of this, us." He said stiffly, but his hands on her body were gentle, and his kiss was sweet.

"Oh Roy," she said gently. "We're so young. It's not the end. I swear, as soon as this is over, as soon as I know you're safe, I'll stop, I'll quit, I"ll…" she was whispering into his mouth, soft and desperate, and he was kissing her, over and over, because he knew, no matter how many times she swore to him, they were just casual promises, just the sweet, empty promises that accompanied the death of a romance.

**mangaverse spoiler warning **

when roy remet riza at ishbal she was a sniper candidate in the military academy. the paper's i speak of here are the ones that make her officially a cadet.

**end spoiler warning**

**A/N -- HAHA, I TRICKED YOU! NOBODY DIES! HA AHA HA AHA HA the answer was E…yeah, I'm done now…review! A/N -- HAHA, I TRICKED YOU! NOBODY DIES! HA AHA HA AHA HA the answer was E…yeah, I'm done now…review! **

Top of Form


	7. 7 Crime and Punishment

**007. Crime and Punishment**

**a/n—okay, so I had SUCH A HARD TIME not dressing Riza in a dom outfit and goin from there…but then I'd probably be dead from blood loss (double nosebleed) but I valiantly resisted the urge…as hot as it would be…(sighs) ****girlfriend hits him with a toaster o****w…hey, it's a cartoon character, okay? It's not even a real person that I'm comparing you to—what about the james bond naked thing, huh? I saw you pause it and stare…what about it, huh? Huh? HUH? WE CAN'T ALL BE RIPPED LIKE HIM…okay, I'm done now…**

"What'd I do?" he yelped, disconcerted, as she whipped the paperwork out from under his furiously scribbling pen.

"Roy Mustang, what is this?"

He cleared his throat and tried to look cool. "My uber-short mini-proposal," he said, but the hitch in his voice gave his fear away.

She sighed, ripped the paper into four pieces, and muttered softly, tossing it into the bin.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, he thought, watching her settle back into the desk. He slipped his hand into his drawer to come up with the next Xerox copy of the original proposal, and found it empty.

He whipped his head around and stared at her. She smirked at him and turned back to her own work, leaving him gaping.

He'd have to start all over again, he thought, snapping his fingers. Several sparks flew off his fingers and lit the paper he was reviewing on fire.

"Sir," she said, exasperated. "Stand back please." She pulled out the fire extinguisher from under her desk and fired, "accidentally" hitting him in the process.

"Oops," she said, one brow arched quietly.

"Um," he responded.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't snap your fingers with your gloves on, sir?" Her words were chastising, but her tone was carefully bland. He grinned at her sheepishly, and sighed when she turned away, leaving him cold and wet. Damn, he thought, but at least she hadn't reached for her gun.

So began his day.

"Havoc," she said quietly. Havoc gulped, stood, and walked to her desk as if he were walking to the principal.

"Yes, first lieutenant?"

"What is this?"

"It was a mistake," he said, trying to imitate Mustang's nonchalant tone.

"Mistakes in paperwork is what white out is for. And new forms. We never scribble in the military. Especially after the form is returned for incorrect information. And look, it's returned again, for incorrect protocol."

"I'm sorry."

"What if this mistakes costs the Colonel his next promotion? We do not make mistakes in this company, Havoc. This is unacceptable."

Havoc stared at her fearfully, waiting for the shine of her gun.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again."

He sighed with relief and excused himself, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. He brought it out and stuck it onto his lip, fiddling in his desk for his lighter.

His lighter?

He jerked the drawer open, and stared heart-broken at where his lighter always was. His head jerked up quickly enough to give him neck-pain, and he stared at the lieutenant. "Smoking will kill you," she said calmly. "As mistakes in paperwork will kill men."

Havoc felt the tears well up at her cruelty, and shut the drawer despondently.

As lunchtime neared, he began to feel hungry. It wasn't late enough for his break, and so he couldn't go and get the food from his locker. His mind drifted to thoughts of food, and he really couldn't concentrate on the other things that distracted him, other more distracting things. He sighed, and glanced at the lieutenant. She was busy, and distracted, he thought, and got up casually and pretended to stretch, covering his true motive: sneaking the carefully cut pieces of meat that she had cut and prepared for her dog. It was chicken, after all, nicely spiced, too.

A bullet exploded next to his hand, and he quickly snatched it away. He looked up to smile apologetically at her, but she wasn't even watching him.

Damn, he thought again, and hastily sat down. Lunchtime came, and he wandered to the locker-room for his food, only to find Havoc munching on an entirely too-familiar looking sandwich.

"Havoc, what the hell are you eating?"

"Your sandwich," he said calmly, flipping the page of the magazine he was reading.

"But it's mine!"

He looked up, surprised. "Hawkeye told me that I could have it, since I forgot my lunch. Something about you going out to eat today."

He was angry enough to grill Havoc and eat him. "But I have a meeting today! I can't leave! I won't be back in time!"

Havoc looked surprised at the piece of information. "Not like the lieutenant to make a mistake about your schedule. She's human, too, I suppose. You want the rest of this?"

Roy looked at the food, and then Havoc's fingers, covered in a permanent gray film of cigarette ashes, and grimly shook his head. Damn her, he thought.

As she came back from lunch, she was greeted by Mustang's best glare.

She smiled cheerfully at him, draping her jacket behind her char.

"Get back to work sir. Meeting starts in fifteen minutes. I'll need you to read the briefing on your table before we go in."

Havoc stared at her.

"I can't believe you did that to him," he said softly. She just gave him a look.

"Brieda."

"Y-yes, ma'am?"

"Why are you not doing your work?"

Breida was silent, more afraid of those amber eyes than he cared to admit.

"Brieda," she repeated.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I asked you a question."

"It's boring!" he blurted out, and then looked shocked at his own audacity.

The lieutenant sighed. "Burhaha," she called, and the dog came out from under her desk. "Guard, boy!"

The dog looked at her questioningly.

"Brieda," she answered, and he trotted over and sat down a foot from his desk.

"Lieut-t-t-ten-n-ant…" he protested faintly. "It's a dog!"

"Yes," she said dryly.

"You know how much I hate dogs!"

"Yes," she repeated. "And that dog will stay there until you finish your work."

* * *

"Here you are," she said at the end of the day, dropping a paper bag on his desk. In the same motion, she clicked her tongue. "At ease, Hayate," she said, and the dog backed off. 

Roy peered inside and came out with a bagel, no cream cheese.

"I hate bagels. They're too dry," he muttered.

She didn't even glance at him. "Then maybe you should bring your own lunch."

"I did," he said.

"Really? I wonder where it went then?"

He glared at her and she rewarded him with a quiet smile before turning to Havoc, who was in the corner rocking back and forth, trying not to concentrate on his severe need for nicotine.

She flicked the lighter at him. He caught it by pure reflex and felt tears of joy fill his eyes. "Lieutennant," he sniffed. "That was too cruel."

She sighed and turned away. "Not in the office," she said, and Havoc made a mad dash for the great outdoors.

She turned back to Roy to find him wolfing down the bagel.

"Dismissed, men," she said, and the others sighed in relief, thankful to not have fallen in the lieutenant's endless cycle of crime and punishment. She watched them file out of the room with cold amusement in her eyes.

She reached for her coat and felt his arms surround her gently, pulling her to him. Damn, she thought. He makes it so hard for me. She let herself lean against him for precisely two seconds before pulling away.

"Riza," he said pleadingly, leaning in to kiss her. She intercepted his mouth with her hand placed between them.

"No," she said. "Three times, you did something today that you shouldn't have."

He sighed, a mournful look in his eyes.

"You know what that means," she said, gathering her things and walking out of the room, leaving him alone and desolate.

"No sex," he muttered, getting his own coat.

The greatest punishment of all.

**Random? come on, surely you expect it of me by now? i was all geared up to write something angsty (the angst was really about to drip off my fingertips onto the keyboard, like a liquified version of flubber) but then jacksparrow sounded so patheticly depressed that i had to write some humor, just for her...sigh...i'm too soft you guys, aren't i:)  
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** anyway, this week i got more pms than i did reviews...yay for me? can we try to amend this situation guys? please, if you didnt like it, let me know, so i can make sure i figure out what people don't like? please review, it makes me feel loved, or at least existent...  
**

**  
on the positive side 1000 hits YEAH!  
**


	8. 8 Storelined Streets

**Whoo…okay, this one gave me a lot of trouble, and ended up being longer than I expected. Don't worry if you think it's a little meandering and slow, its supposed to be that way until the end. I really didn't have a specific something i was going for, which is why it has a strange feel for it.  
**

**008.** Store-lined streets

They weren't really allowed to go on an actual date. She'd looked up the laws, bless her heart. Always so safe.

An actual date would be considered a violation of the fraternization rule, but this, walking along a street with her out of uniform…it was toeing the line, yes, but not quite jumping over it.

Besides, it was rare that someone recognized them. She looked different, with her hair down, wearing a long skirt, or slacks, a blouse, and her smile on. He would always wear jeans and a tee shirt. The world didn't expect it of him. Blue uniform, always, dressy casual on dates, but relaxed Roy Mustang, the war hero in casual—it blew their minds away.

They were caught only once.

"Mustang?" he had heard, and turned to find one of the Generals staring at them.

He saluted sharply, and felt Hawkeye do the same.

"What are you doing?"

They were in a small grocery store, and he swore mentally at the guilty expression on Riza's face. "Shopping, sir," he answered, stating the obvious.

"Lieutenant?"

"Sir!"

"At ease, both of you."

They relaxed, and the flour in the aisle caught his eye.

"General," he said, turning on the Mustang Charm. "Have you ever had one of Hawkeye's cookies?"

The general looked surprised. "Um. No, can't say I have."

"I won a bet, you know," he said, winking conspiratorially. "About Havoc's latest girl. I told her that she wouldn't last three dates, but Hawkeye said four."

Riza spluttered indignantly, and Roy carefully nudged her foot with his. Her face instantly went bland.

"She has too much faith in the man."

The general smiled a little. "What was the wager? Cookies? Are you serious, Colonel?"

Roy grinned. "Ah," he said, finding it a lovely opportunity to add innocence to the concoction he was mixing. "But you, General, did not live in her father's house for years."

A reminder of their past friendship. Bravo, thought Riza.

"Ah, yes, your father was his teacher, wasn't he, Hawkeye?"

She smiled blandly, wishing her hair was pulled back. She couldn't pull off the Lieutenant face when her hair was down. "Yes. He lived with us for several years."

"A good, solid friendship."

"If you wish to call it that. Frankly, it was more tolerance than friendship. Outright hostility would have been difficult in such close quarters."

The General smiled and wondered that he had thought something was going on between them. Such a jovial and lively man and such a serious and cold woman? He shuddered. Pity the fool who Hawkeye loves. Her smile is enough to freeze a man's heart…a frown would kill him.

"She hasn't made me cookies for years. So it took my opportunity! Maybe we'll save you some, General," Mustang interrupted his thoughts.

"And what was Hawkeye's gain in this?"

Riza pretended to be choosing a brand of baking powder. "You mean my end of the wager? I said he had to get his paperwork done for the week by Tuesday."

Roy blinked. That would have been a dangerous proposal. But it was so…Lieutenant Hawkeye-like that the General didn't think twice.

"That's so like you, Lieutenant," he chuckled. "Ever the perfect soldier."

She glanced up and saluted. "Thank you, sir."

"Well, Mustang, Hawkeye, I've got to be going, but if you have any leftovers, send them my way."

The Lieutenant smiled. "Will do, sir."

They waited until he was gone from the store before bursting out laughing. "Guess I really do have to make you cookies," she said, and he grinned.

"That turned out well for me then," he said, and handed her chocolate chips to put in her basket.

But other than the marketplace, they wouldn't ever really go anywhere. She'd windowshop, and it was nice to watch her spend more time at some windows than others. The gunshop, of course, was one of the place she always lingered, but she also stopped with all the other women to stare at the latest dress in the window of a small boutique, something that many would find very un-Hawkeye-ish, but he knew was normal. She wouldn't be a woman if a pretty dress didn't catch her eye.

She never bought them, but he kept an eye on what she liked. It might prove useful one day, he thought, and lately, he found he had a little game of sorts, trying to predict where she would stop next. He was correct nine out of ten, but then there would be those things that surprised him.

She was always surprising him, even after knowing her so long.

He'd always walk on her right side, and her little shopping basket would hang on her left. He offered to carry it for her, but she always refused with that same smile. "It's all right, Roy," she would say, using his name at every available opportunity. "I can do it. I'm a big girl."

He would smile sheepishly. Didn't he know, though…

They never held hands—that was too risky—nor did he kiss her public. It was just the feeling of being close to her on a day they didn't have anything to do at all.

It felt so damn much like a date…

He smiled, stretching his arms out and sighing. She glanced up at him. "Feeling restless?"

He shook her head. "Hungry," she asked, knowingly.

He smirked. "Maybe," he answered, looking at her in a certain way.

She rolled her eyes and went back to the window she was looking at. It was a jeweler's, he realized, and nudged her with his shoulder.

"Wanna go in?" he asked, feeling particularly daring.

"We shouldn't," she said, but her voice wasn't particularly convincing.

"Come on," he said, and opened the door for her.

She smiled uncertainly, and went in.

They were surrounded by diamonds.

She gasped at earrings and he urged her to try them on, knowing how rarely it was that she got to feel beautiful. The sales lady brought them out, and she gently hooked them onto her lobes…she really did look beautiful, he thought, and told her, not caring if the clerk recognized them.

She looked at him and blushed, and he could picture her in a beautiful dress, her hair beautifully done, the earrings drawing out her long neck. But it wasn't Riza, he thought, and watched her take them off reluctantly. "But you look better without them," he said softly, and she turned and smiled at him, suddenly sweet and shy. "You look like my Riza without them."

They walked through the rest of the store, ignoring the saleswoman stalking them. And then it happened.

She stopped at a counter, and he saw something flicker in her eyes. Pain? Was that pain he recognized? What could possibly be in a jewelry store that caused her pain?

He leaned over and looked down into the counter—

And felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Wedding rings, he thought, and the knife in his heart twisted cruelly. Their faces were both frozen, and the woman behind the counter pounced.

"Ring shopping?" she said cheerfully.

"Erm, no, not exactly," Riza said awkwardly, but neither did she step away from the counter.

"Ah, what girl isn't always ring-shopping?" the woman said, winking at Roy. He looked at Riza, and he looked at the saleswoman, and he was at a complete loss at what to do.

"Try something on! Go on! You have lovely slim fingers."

She looked uncertainly at Roy, and the one look told him everything he needed to know. She wanted to. It was like morbid curiosity.

"Go on," he said, and she bent over the case.

"That one," she said softly, pointing at a ring. He leaned over again to look at her choice as the lady brought it out. It was much more to his taste than the earrings had been. The diamond was large, but not overlarge, and was surrounded by tiny emeralds. The woman slid it onto her finger and turned her towards Roy.

There was an odd look of longing in her eyes that he had rarely seen before. Gently, he took her hand and caressed it, not willing to admit how much he liked the look of a ring on her finger, not daring to let the image take the possessive form in his head, his ring on her finger, god that sounded too good.

Abruptly, he pulled her close and kissed her harshly, not caring that he was breaking his own rules. He felt her eyes close as he whispered one soft phrase into her mouth. "I'm so sorry," he said, and slipped the ring off her finger even as her eyes were closed. He pulled away and handed it back to the woman, who had thought that surely she had sold that ring. "Thank you," he said, took her hand, and pulled her out of the store with him.

Outside, in the sunlight, she looked paler than usual, and he wanted to take her home and hold her close to him for hours. It had hurt her, the one thing she had never told him, the one thing she never reminded him of. It was any girl's dream, her reminded himself. A marriage, children, a family of her own. And, he admitted to himself, it was every man's too. He had wanted to buy her that ring as much as she had wanted it.

Damn, he thought, running his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that resurfaced once in a while. He should say something…yes, he needed to say something. "Are you all right?" was all he could manage.

"Yes," she answered, just that one syllable.

He nodded, and turned to face her. She was looking out at the sky, her face unreadable, her eyes far away.

"Riza," he started, and then stopped as she spoke.

"Maybe…maybe we shouldn't do this any longer."

"What?" He stared at her. "No. No, we can't not do this. I look forward to this, every week, it's what keeps me going through the mountains of bureaucracy, we can't just stop!"

"But it hurts," she whispered, and finally looked at him.

He was startled to see the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Riza," he whispered, and kissed her softly, pulling her close.

"Is any of this even worth it?" she asked, her voice soft and aching.

"Of course it is…"

"But it hurts, Roy…it hurts…I want you, I want a child, my own baby, I want…"

"I know," he whispered back, and suddenly looked around him to realize that they were on the street, where anyone could see them. But the world seemed not to care today, passing by them as if they were just another couple—he wished they were just another couple, walking through store-lined streets in sweet peace.

Damn it, he thought sadly. Why are things so damn complicated? As much as we try…why are things so damn complicated?

**I can't decide whether or not riza breaking down is ooc or not…if it is, I apologize, but a bit of me is telling the rest of me that if you hit something just right, it'll break no matter how strong it is…just a thought. Anyway, the review button is right there, it only takes a second…**


	9. 9 Unkown Past

**sorry for the late update--first school got in the way, then life got in the way. ****I'm going to be taking on RoyAi as we see them. So again, no fluff. I'm afraid this is going to be extremely weird, and extrememly unconventional, but I'll give it a shot anyway**

**009.** Unknown past/Before we know each other

The mystery that surrounds them is palpable. One could reach out between them and squeeze it out the hair, like water on an overly humid midafternoon.

They know each other, that much is obvious. Such devotion doesn't come of a random officer-subordinate pairing. They love each other? It certainly seems so…though they've never heard the Colonel say anything, and despite the fact that he takes a different girl out every week. And Riza…well, she's Riza. Cold and warm, hard and sweet, all rolled up until one is never sure which side of her they'll unface.

It's part of who they are, their inability to be defined. Other relationships, even the hesitant, understated one between Ed and Winry, are simple. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy. The Boy and Girl in question might not admit it, or it might be difficult, but there isn't much of a question as to who they are, and what they want.

But then, its hard to know exactly where the Colonel and the Lieutenant stand with each other, when so little of their past is known. It's basing a truth on an unknown, a dangerous and volatile concept. Were they lovers before? If they were, how is it that they can look at each other every day, pretend there's nothing between them. Can two ex-lovers really be as close friends as they are?

Is there something now? But why doesn't she even call him Mustang? Why does he keep himself so tightly shuttered from her? Why does she force him to work so hard? There's no lowering of expectations between them, no informality. How could two lovers possibly maintain that kind of strict order?

Or is it disguised in hidden tensions, sweet romance that has yet to come into being, but lies there dormant, waiting for the right moment? Yet, this too seems too much to think of. That she would follow him, care for him, risk her life for him, all for a love that may or may not exist one day…

It's unthinkable.

They haven't known each other forever, that much is true. Once in a while a line will slip one of their lips… "Before I knew you," they'd begin, but then, suddenly aware of the sudden silence in the room, of the ears steadily growing to hunt out more information, they'll stop, smile ruefully, and the other will smile back, sharing an unknown joke. Damn them, and their inside jokes.

Perhaps there's nothing, just overactive imaginations creating love where it just isn't there. But instinct and subtle hintings, little things, scream of something, anything…

But they are friends, that much is for sure. They have known each other before, as the daughter and apprentice of a man. That alone is too little of a connection for her to follow him to the ends of the world, so there must be something…something in their past that observers hunger to know, but don't dare to ask.

Where is the equilibrium between lovers, coworkers, and friends? What happened between them that they don't speak of? What doesn't the world know about them, that bonds them so tightly?

What secrets in their unknown past could possibly define and justify whatever it is they have?

**Sigh…I really don't like this one…you can inform me of your dislike and I will nod wisely and agree with you…its not poignant, its not cute, its not angst…its not ANYTHING. But I have no other ideas that have not been done a thousand times so I guess I'm posting it anyway…my apologies :(  
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	10. 9b Unkown Past

**okay, i told you i hated it, so here's a redo. thanks for all your comments on the last one, and although i appreciate the people who liked it anyway, i didn't and therefore, here's take two on theme 9:  
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**009.** Unknown past/Before we know each other 

I wasn't all that old when I came to study with Hawkeye-sensei. Maybe Ed's age when I first went to visit him, and yet…its strange…it's hard to remember a time without her…I'll turn to her occasionally, and I'll start to talk about that one time, and she'll give me a funny look.

"That was before you knew me, Colonel," she would say, and it would strike me as odd.

Was there a time that she wasn't by my side? A time when her gun and her smile weren't prodding me onwards?

There was…wasn't there? There was that moment when her father introduced me to her. "My daughter, Riza," he said carelessly, as if she were a maid rather than his own flesh and blood. I remember suddenly feeling a twinge of pity for that empty-eyed girl, feeling the quiet ache of a lonely heart pull on mine.

I knew what it was like to be alone.

Before that moment…no…I don't like thinking about that time when I was alone in the world. I like to pretend I was born the day our eyes met the first time.

For months, I ignored her. I'm sorry for that, now, but for months, I pretended that she were what your father labeled her as: a silent waif drifting through the house, responsible only for making sure Dr. Hawkeye ate well and didn't drink too much.

But it got so lonely, being in that huge house with no one to talk to.

It wasn't an especially new feeling. I was used to being alone. But in the back of my mind, I had always thought that as soon as I began this apprenticeship, I would have someone to call Father as well as Sensei.

But Hawkeye sensei was…driven…that was all one could really say about him. He was obsessed with his work, and beyond that, there was just no concept of reality.

Eventually, I turned to the only living creature in the house who seemed to be human—Riza. And slowly, though I wouldn't let myself touch her, I felt myself falling in love with the girl. She was just a girl back then, shyer than she was now, and infinitely colder. She was afraid of me, just like she was afraid of her father.

So it began, the loyalty that no one seems to understand. I would never leave her again, and though her very job, her promise to herself puts her in danger of her life, I will always let her do as she chooses. And she will stay by me, no matter who leaves, no matter who dies, she will always walk one step to the side and two steps behind me.

I wonder sometimes, when I see a flicker of something in her eyes, like when she begged me to burn the array off her back, what he did to her. I never told her about where I came from. All she knows is that I have no family, and neither does she. It's enough for now, but one day, I wish I would have the courage to look at her and ask, "Before I met you, what happened in your life? What happened that could make a girl's eyes so cold?" How did her mother die? Why was her grandfather so set on our marriage? Did she have a cousin, somewhere?

For someone that I work with every day, for someone who has been at my side constantly for the last few years, I know so little about her.

Maybe I'm afraid to ask. Maybe I don't need to know more than she's telling me. Maybe I don't want to hear how old she was when her father burned his knowledge into her back…maybe I don't want to know about what else he might have done to her…

Because she has her secrets, even from me.

But I'll find out, one day.

The day I'll be brave enough to tell her my own.

**There you are, yay for me, i finally kicked something out of my brain that i'm satisfied with. yes, its strange to see a fanfic in first person, and yes, its a weird concept that roy and riza don't know anything about each other, but...i like it. so there...and if you don't you should inform me in caustic tones...aka, REVIEW**

**seriously guys, i haven't heard from half the people who are on chapter alert...guys, please? just a smiley would do, really...pretty pretty please? **


	11. 10 Promise

**well, this one's kinda crappy too, but oh well. i like the idea, but not the way it came out, so i'm posting it.****  
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**010.** Promise

They lived their lives by promises, each and every one of them. Promises that were engraved into their souls, as harshly as their mistakes were. Promises that they could no more break than kill the one they loved most. Promises they would give not only their lives, but their souls for.

Old Granny Pinako, as she watched her granddaughter sob over the cold letter that the military sent them, as she watched Ed and Al struggle to not cry at their mother's funeral. _I'll raise you…I'll make you into something, all of you, so you have your own lives to live, instead of weeping over the dead. _

Winry's promise as she watched Ed leave her again and again…_I'll keep you going, Ed-kun, just so you can live with your conscience. I'll give you arms and legs, as many as you need, I'll keep making them for you, just so you can be at peace one day. _

Lives filled with promises, more than just casual words, so much more than something that could be spoken.

Trisha's promise as she watched her husband leave her. _I'll love you, and I'll wait for you…_

Alphonse and Ed, as they looked at each other. _Brother, _they each thought, _I'll save you from that cruel body._

So many unspoken words, for they were never said aloud, so many people whispering things in their hearts to ease the ache that was ever-present.

Scar's promise as he watched his brother dive into insanity…_I'll avenge you, I'll avenge my race._

The Ishabalan's promise to their God—_we will follow You to death, we will not give up on our way, our belief. _

But they were silent promises, kept deep within themselves, often taboo or too shameful to voice to those who needed to hear the most.

_I'll save the world from this military,_ he promised to himself, but she heard him, despite the words being so soft in the confusion around them.

And she had responded with one of her own. _I'll protect you, so you can._

But it was more than that…it was a promise encompassing her entire life, it was a promise she'd never tell him of, although he knew, a promise to stand by him, to care for him, to push him onwards even though it would destroy the both of them if he succeeded…and most of all…a promise to love him even if it killed her.

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**READ THE FOLLOWING!!! **

**  
on a side note, this story is going to go on hiatus for a while. i'll still update, but it might take longer, since i'm trying my hand at a kinda backstory fic called it'll kill you. still royai, but much more subtle. go read that one too! SHAMELESS ADVERTISING!**

**and while you're here, why don't you hit that review button, eh?**_  
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	12. 11 Liar

**This might be a little weird, since this is an idea that I've been kicking around in my head for a while, because I try to be original and I didn't want to do another roy/riza stands at the other's grave and says liar, not that the one's I've read aren't amazing, because they are, its just I feel like I'm plagiarizing when I do that, unless I have something significantly big to bring to the scenario, which I didn't….anway…**

**SPOILER WARNING--takes place in the forties of the manga, not the anime. If you read this, there will be manga spoilers for those chapters. Beware. **

**011.** Liar

I live a lie, she thought, staring up at the clouds and sighing. It would be raining soon, and she shifted the groceries once again.

She fiddled with the key and unlocked the door, setting her groceries inside before locking it again.

She went to work every day, rain or shine, especially if it was raining, to make sure the Colonel didn't do anything too stupid, though she was usually powerless to stop him. She could only watch, and step in with her gun when she was needed.

He never asked her for help, that stupid idiot, before running into danger. But then what was the point when he knew that she would follow him, regardless of what she said. She would pretend to be angry, or he would pretend to be angry with her for being stupid enough to give up on her own life for him, but the truth was…they were both lying, really.

Just like last night…

She swore softly under her breath as Black Hayate came rushing up to investigate the groceries. She tossed her keys on the counter and picked up the bags again, moving to the kitchen and slowly beginning to put away the groceries.

It had been simple really.

She couldn't pretend she didn't want him any more.

He had said something about needing to be sure that his subordinates weren't going to die for this, because he'd lost too many of them—when really it wasn't really his fault that Havoc was paralyzed, and Maes had chosen his own path—and the moment had just been so damn tender that she had reached up and touched his face, and he had closed his eyes, and then, before she could talk herself out of it, she had leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

She'd felt him inhale—a sweet gasp that made her smile and literally took her breath away—and one hand had come to the back of her waist to support her as he closed his eyes.

For that brief moment, it felt like her world was finally right, it felt like maybe she'd found the happiness so many claimed was in a sweet kiss, or waking up to find a warm body in bed.

And then he'd pulled away sharply, turning away from her. She saw his gloved fingers run through his hair and sighed, looking away and licking her lips, imagining she could still taste him. "What is it?" she had finally said.

"Nothing," he had said, though his clenched fists had spoken differently.

She sighed and walked to him, laying one hand on his back, and he had jerked as if she'd pulled his entire body with a string.

"Sir…Colonel…"

"How can you call me Colonel after that?" His voice had been rough, soft…

She looked away. "Because it's who you are."

He'd turned then, and looked down at her. "That's a lie," he had said. "I'm Roy, I always have been, and I always will be. The colonel is just a person that the higher-ups see. Not Roy. Roy is the man who does things off the record, who calls you Elizabeth and pretends to flirt with you on a military line so we can do covert operations without the military knowing."

"And which one of you wants Riza?"

"Neither one of us want Riza," he said softly.

"Liar," she stated simply, but who was she to call him a liar when she was always lying just as badly as he was?

He had pulled her to him for a sweet moment, and she breathed in the smell of ashes and clean uniform, and closed her eyes. And then he pulled away and smiled tiredly at her, and shook her head.

"I don't want you, Riza Hawkeye."

She frowned up at him, suddenly afraid of what he was about to say. "Neither of you?"

He shook his head, and leaned his forehead against hers, taunting himself with her closeness. "Roy needs Riza, and the Colonel needs his Lieutenant. There's no room for wanting."

She'd stared at him, and one gloved finger came up to her cheek to intercept the quiet tear that had fallen. "Yes, sir," she said softly, and had pulled away, marveling at her stupidity for believing him for a short moment.

Because it wasn't true, she thought desperately, staring at her filled cupboards.

Were liars, the both of us…

Because there really wasn't a place where she could break off the wanting from the needing. She wanted him as badly as he needed her. She had felt his heart pounding beneath her hand when she'd kissed him, felt his breath catch, felt the hunger in his eyes every time he looked at her.

"Riza wants Roy," she said softly in the silence of her empty apartment. "But the Lieutenant and the Colonel can't afford to indulge in that, now can they?"

And that, plainly spoken, was the truth.

**i actually like this one. i think its actually in character of them. and it follows the storyline well. **

**  
Um, well…I jut read that over to check for mistakes, and they both sound like they have multiple personality disorder, don't they? Ahem…oops…smiles sheepishly…sorry…anyway, review and tell me which personality you like best, roy or the colonel, riza or the lieutenant…:P  
**


	13. 12 Proof

**fluff anyone? i mean, it's been a while...**

**012.** Proof

"Well?" she asked, her voice brusque.

"Well what?"

"Tell me."

"Nothing."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, you snap it shut every time I walk into the room."

He looked away pointedly.

"Ed has a date in his."

"And?"

"And he's shown it to Winry." Well, perhaps that was a bit of an overstatement, but...details, details...

"So what?"

"Come on. If it's not that important, why won't you show it to me?"

"Because it's private."

She rolled her eyes again. "I've been through your drawers you know," she said casually. "I've seen those magazines."

He turned slightly pink. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted.

"More private than that?"

He turned his face away from her. "I am your commanding officer," he reminded her. "It's not exactly excellent conduct for a subordinate to go through my drawers."

"Only if there's nothing to find," she pointed out, and he glared at her.

"Well there's nothing to find in my pocketwatch."

"Prove it."

He turned away again.

She sighed. They had reached a dead end, yet again. She came back into her rigid form as the rest of the men trooped into the room. She hadn't forgotten about it. In fact, she hadn't even shoved it to the back of her mind. It was active and gnawing at her attention, not just for that hour, or even for that day, but for months afterwards.

It was one sunny afternoon that she recieved a call at the office.

"Infirmary calling. Looking for one Roy Mustang's office."

"First Lieutennant Riza Hawkeye speaking," she said. "The colonel's personal assistant."

"Oh, good. I've got to inform you that Colonel Mustang is in the hospital right now, being treated to a gunshot wound to the shoulder."

Riza froze. "Is it serious," she finally managed.

"Enough that he'll have to be in bed-rest for a while, but not enough that he's in danger for his life," the doctor's voice was cheerful and she relaxed. "It said to contact the office or your home number, Lieutenant, on his forms."

"Yes. I'll be right over."

Sighing, and cursing herself for letting the colonel out for something he had assured her was a date, she grabbed her coat, the keys to the military vehicle issued to their office, called out to the other men, and headed out.

"Well," she said softly, "This had better be good."

The young doctor watched, amazed, as Riza went through a veritable rainbow of emotions, ranging from shock, to concern, to anger, to angrier, to really really angry, to frighteningly calm, to hurt, and then to amiable.

She was sitting by the man's beside now, silent, but not angry any more. It was the sort of silence that rested easily with a patient, the kind of silence that meant not that there was nothing being said, but that there was simply nothing to be said.

"I'm tired," he said, and she looked up at him.

"Go to sleep then, she said, her voice kinder than her words.

"Hm," he answered, already half there.

She smiled, a genuine smile, and the doctor snapped out of his trance and came to Riza. "Well, this uniform is ruined, and since he'll be here for a few days, why don't you see if you can find a new one for him?"

Riza smiled at him politely, and took the pile. "I'll do that, sir. Thank you."

The doctor nodded and left. Riza tsked softly and sorted out the clothing, folding carefully. The jacket and shirt were torn, and she doubted they could be fixed, but the pants were fine, she mused, shaking them out. A heavy object fell from the pocket onto the floor. Reaching down. she realized it was the silver watch.

She looked carefully at Roy, fast asleep, before smiling and hitting the catch. The face of the watch sprung open easily, and a few pieces of what appeared to be paper fell into her lap. Frowning she picked them up and examined them closely.

The first was of a youngish woman, well into womanhood, but not yet old. She was holding a small child in her arms, and though the picture was old, and the face had changed, she recognized Roy's shaggy hair and dark eyes immediately. His mother.

The next picture that she unfolded was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. A younger Roy's face, familiar from the many years of their childhood together, and a younger Maes' face, again, as it had been so many years ago. They were grinning together, Roy's eyes nearly closed, and Mae's glasses glinting slightly. She had never seen this picture before, but for a moment, she was afraid that she would cry. They looked so happy together, young and hopeful, ready to defend their country to the death. Was that how she had looked, when they started this?

And there she was.

She blinked at the third and last photograph. She had either never known of it, or had long since forgotten. It was a profile shot, and he had caught her while she was laughing. Her hair was short, as she was maybe seventeen, with her school skirt and long socks, her head tossed back, laughing at some long-forgotten joke. The picture was creased heavily, and faded with time, but it was still obvious that she had no idea that she was being photographed, and the shutter had closed quickly enough that it had not registered her turn.

"I hadn't meant for you to see that," she heard him say, and she jumped slightly. She turned to look at him guiltily, and he shook his head. "It was private."

She replaced the pictures and snapped the watch shut. He wiggled his fingers and she handed it over. He tucked it under his pillow, turned, and went back to sleep with a sigh.

"All the proof I never needed," she murmured softly, and decided that it was time for her to leave.

**that turned out longer than i expected, but oh well. thanks to you all for over a hundred reviews and three thousand hits! I love to read reviews, especially when they find the obligatory typo that must appear in every chapter. You guys are awesome :)**


	14. 13 Betrayal

**okay, so i have been berated. i've been forgetting spoiler warnings lately, and so now, i'll try to put them on again. ready? **

**SPOILER WARNING for after Riza's emotional moment. I don't remember what chapter of the manga that was, and that's not too much of a giveaway, right?**

**but anyway, there it was. beware...and enjoy! **

**013.** Betrayal

"Colonel," she said, turning towards him as he opened the door.

"Hawkeye?" he sounded faintly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I—I couldn't tell you at the hospital, but…I—"

"You're not going to apologize again, aren't you?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

"You already told me in there. You didn't have to come here just to say it again."

She shook her head, and he sighed. "Come on in," he said, and was surprised when she shook her head again. "Well, then, I guess I'll come out."

They sat on the porch steps together, and he waited for her to organize her thoughts.

"Well, I apologized as a soldier, sir."

"Hawkeye, at least call me Mustang when we're off duty. Or avoid calling me anything at all." He smiled at her. "We'll both be nameless, huh?"

She smiled back, and both their hearts skipped a beat before they broke the eye contact. That was dangerous territory, they both reminded themselves as they looked away.

"Well, then, if you apologized, there's nothing else to be sorry for," he said after a moment, breaking the only slightly awkward silence.

She shook her head. "I'm apologizing for giving up on you."

"I was supposedly dead. It would take a miracle for you to believe in me when I was dead."

She remained stubborn. "Until I saw your body, I should never have given up on you. I betrayed your life."

"How many different ways can you guilt yourself? You've got it down to an art, I swear."

"Isn't that what you meant in the hospital?"

"No…absolutely not!" He looked at her incredulously. "Even I can't expect you to not believe what your instinct tells you. I might as well have been dead."

She was silent.

He sighed.

"Then what did you want from me?"

"I wanted you to understand that it's your own bloody life!" he exploded. "Don't give up on your own just because I'd lost mine!"

She stared at him. "Then why were you so angry with me?" she whispered.

"Wouldn't you be damn angry with me? What if they told me, oh your lieutenant is dead, would you want me to curl up and say, oh, all right, let me give up and die too."

She suddenly felt foolish. "I—"

He suddenly relaxed. "Hawkeye…"

She waited.

"Don't betray your own self."

She still said nothing.

"I know…I know you would give your own life to make sure I had mine, but there's only so far you can take that. Why the hell would you betray yourself for a dead man? It wouldn't bring him back to life, now would it?"

She sighed. "I suppose not."

He smiled, his voice warm again. "Besides," he said. "Surely you know by now that you'd betray me if you gave up on your own life."

"So you said," she replied.

"No, I mean, if I died…who better to take over my vision than my right-hand woman?"

She blushed suddenly. "You over-estimate me, sir. I can't manipulate people like you can."

"No, but people love you, Hawkeye. It's one of those odd things in life. You're cold as the polar opposite of hell itself, you're stiff as a well made board, but still, people like you."

"Yourself included, sir?"

He chuckled. "Myself included."

She was smiling now too. They both knew that she didn't want to have to save a country from its military. She just wanted to save one man from himself.

"It would be hard..." She looked away from him. "I mean, all i ever do is protect you from death."

"And just as I would expect you to protect me till death while I'm alive, I expect you to live and prosper if I were dead. Anything less would betray my spirit."

"Like you moved on after Hughes' death," she murmured, suddenly finding new respect for her Colonel. To move on, to pretend most days like nothing had happened…she'd never realized how difficult it would have been until today. One blow, and I break apart, she thought.

_I have to be stronger for him._

She stood. "Colonel," she said, and smiled at his extended hand. She pulled him up, and they stared awkwardly at each other. The workplace called for a smart salute—there were no regulations for out of duty conduct.

"Well, see you tomorrow," she said, and he nodded, reaching out and taking her hand for the briefest of moments. He felt the warmth of her hands, even through the gloves.

"See you," he said, and she turned and left.

_Little idiot,_ he thought fondly, and went back into his home.

But then so was he. Because as much as he lectured her, if he had been shown her body…he would have broken too. He would have betrayed her, just as she'd betrayed him. It was inevitable, no matter how much he lectured. But if he couldn't tell her he loved her...well...maybe yelling at her was the next best thing. Maybe keeping her alive was all he could do.

**Bah...me no likey the ending. Sorry about the longer space between updates. Finals are coming up, which means i have to study between my three jobs and social life. I know, crazy, the concept of me studying. but it happens occasionally :)**

**A review is like a thumbprint! I know you were here!**


	15. 14 Covered Eyes

**mindless senseless fluff :) now that would be a great band...WARNING: this following piece of writing makes no sense at all plotwise, and also contains NO SPOILERS, so eat your heart out...  
**

**014.** Covered eyes

She was sitting quietly, her eyes far away, Black Hayate let out to run.

Every day, she came to work, her body programmed for efficiency. She would walk home, eat a quick snack, feed Black Hayate, and then take him here to the park so he could stretch his legs.

She would sit on the same park bench, usually reading something for pleasure. How she could stand to read after she read so much at work was amazing, he thought, shaking his head.

But today, for some strange reason, her eyes were unfocused, and eventually, she was just staring out into the trees.

He approached her from behind—if she were in a military situation, she would never have let him get behind her without noticing, but here, in the middle of a park, who could blame her for being unvigilant?

Quick as a streak of white lightning, his hands had flashed out and covered her eyes from behind.

He felt her eyes open under his hands in surprise, but he was already tilting her head back towards him, already pressing his mouth against hers in a silly upside down kiss.

They fit together well, even upside down…

For a long moment, they let themselves relax into the kiss, before he finally pulled away. "Don't open your eyes." She heard the whisper near her ear, and smiled as the hands removed themselves. She contemplated not complying, but kept her eyes closed.

His logic was, to be plain, screwy.

How could he possibly think that she wouldn't recognize his hands, even if the rough texture of the ignition fabric hadn't given him away? The shape, the size of his fingers, the way they fit against her eyes, the pressure he applied…as if she would forget all the times she had held his hands in the hospital, or when they were younger and it wasn't inappropriate, or when he had very briefly held her face between them…

How could she not recognize the smell of him after working together for years, and living together before that? Mustang's scent never changed, fundamentally. He only added flavors as he grew. He still used the same laundry detergent that she had introduced him to years ago. And then had come the cologne, though during the years, he had learned to use it sparingly. It had only taken a few biting comments before he caught on. And then the smell of ashes. The smell of coffee that clung to him since the long nights had begun. One after another, layered until she could no longer pick out the individuals, only the changes.

The taste of him…a compilation of his essence, which was as part of him as his scent, and the toothpaste he used—it was more sugary than hers was—and everything that he had eaten today—all of which she knew by heart. He was a creature of habit, after all, only varying when there was free food to be had nearby. Free food that usually came in the form of an apple he filched from her desk, or something from her lunch, or on special days, something from the breakroom. Otherwise, he ate the same thing for breakfast every day, and nearly the same thing for lunch. And a peppermint at three o'clock. She would hear the wrapper crinkle and look up, just as he would offer her one. She would accept only every third day.

And his hoarse whisper…as if she would forget that tone after the soul-searching conversations they had had, and the whispered terse commands on the field, and the hushed voice that he had used behind her father's back, or when he was nervous the first time he had left for the state examinations…did she think that she had noticed none of that?

She smiled as she finally opened her eyes.

It didn't matter if they were covered, she thought. She knew him too well to just rely on what she saw.

After all, if one judged her by her appearances…well, appearances were carefully constructed by individuals, now weren't they? For a quiet acquaintanceship, it was enough. For a good friendship, one required a little more insight. And to be lovers…she smiled here at the archaic word…well…suffice it to say that love went a little bit beyond what met the eye.

**blah blah blah. i hate this one. it makes no sense. but i like the second part, so i didn't scrap it. i had a long conversation with myself though, about whether or not to keep it...oh well...**

** anyway, thanks for all the happy finals wishes :P i think i'll be fine. **

**i actually have a question for all the obsessive fans out there, and its for my other fic that's going on right now. what kind of pistols does riza use? i'm certain they're not single shot, and i think they're not revolvers. which leaves semi-automatic or multi barrel. basically it depends on whether she uses magazines or bullets, and for the life of me, i can't figure this one out. anyone know? thanks, and as always, leave a review...  
**


	16. 15 Scent of Blood

**Well, obviously anime based…minor spoilers, when we find out that X was about to commit suicide, no reasons given  
**

**015.** The scent of blood

He had been about to commit suicide—but then he had been stopped.

So most of his subordinates knew…but the few months after were hell, and each time he saw a red-eyed-child's face it was there, no, even in-between…when he'd be in the office and Marco's name would be mentioned, when he saw the way the light glinted off sand, little things…and he would smell it again, the scent of blood, of flesh, of fire and death, the taste of human grease on his lips, the stench of roasting men.

He had found he depended on her, during those old days, buried in his memories, when the wounds were fresh rather than tired old scars. He'd depended on her to stand at the correct distance away, and look up every once in a while so he could lose himself in her beautiful eyes.

Yet even she was a reminder, when the light hit her eyes a certain way, turning them as red as the Ishbalans they had killed together…and he would smell it and close his eyes, fighting back the sudden nausea.

Even her eyes were a quiet reminder.

Really, there was only one place he was safe from them, those memories, that sickly-sweet smell in the air…

His eyes would be closed, so that every image in the world would erase itself. He didn't really even need to hold her. He would sit behind her desk, in her chair and close his eyes. He would search his memories for sweeter moments, those heart-stopping maybe moments that made him wonder if she would ever hold him. The moments when he found himself smiling at her because she looked too serious not to.

He would just sit there, until she got back, her brow furrowed in puzzlement, her head tilted slightly to the left. "Sir?"

He'd open his eyes and shake his head, the momentary respite gone, but not completely. She was still there. It was a haven—she was a haven—like a small philosopher's stone that magnified whatever happiness was still inside of him.

And so it was that he showed up on her doorstep like a stray dog, why he needed her close for no reason at all sometimes, why he moved to stand behind her like a shadow, to close his eyes, and just inhale.

And she washed away the blood like the sun erased the rain.

**yeah, yeah, i said i'd be more regular...i lied. I had actually a lot of trouble with this one because it just wouldn't turn out right. i like this one the most of all the edits i tried. i'm not much of an edits person. i usually just write. but i think i like this one. i flip between tenses on purpose, btw...**

** virtual hug for anyone who reviews! (i mean that too. I really will send you a virtual hug. I promise. this isn't like the pandas where i lied. you'll get your hug.)  
**


	17. 16 Reaching Voice

**well, here's sixteen for y'all. a bit of humorish to light up the mood. no spoilers, and squint really hard to see the royai, please. **

**016.** Reaching voice & Unreachable with a voice

"Mustang…"

"Mmmfg."

"Sir…"

"Don't…wanna…"

"Roy, dammit!"

"Five more minutes…five…just…" The snoring began again.

Her voice was so far away, calling to him from a very long distance. There was some reason that he should open his eyes, some very important reason, but it was so nice to push further into the warmth.

He was tired, his brain registered hazily. Another good reason not to wake up.

"Colonel…"

It was such a nice voice too. A little cold, to be sure, and a little…awkward sounding? Yes, that was it, like the caller was faintly embarrassed and making a valiant effort to hide it. Why was his brain working? Shut up, brain, he told himself, and shut his eyes tighter.

The warmth under his head moved, as if someone had tried to heave him off. As if, his muted brain whispered, and he clung tighter. Take that.

"Sir, please, you've—"

A snort of laughter followed. Very non-feminine laughter. The voice was female to be sure, and this warmth was nothing short of heaven, but did women snort like that in heaven? Like men? He frowned in his half-awake state of mind. There was something he was missing here. Something important…

A warm tongue licked his ear, a bit too rough to be a woman's, and he felt a cold slimy wetness follow. His eyes snapped open as suddenly everything fit together and he leapt away from the warmth, sitting upright and taking in his surroundings with a repressed groan.

"Good morning, Colonel!" Fury was a bit too cheerful for his own good. "You told us to wake you when it was time."

He sighed and turned to the person next to him and jumped back. "Havoc?" And then, as his brain cleared enough to realize that it was Havoc's shoulder that he had been sleeping on, he changed his tone. "Havoc!"

"Yes, sir?"

He looked around in the small crawlspace they were in, waiting and biding their time until the mission began, and found Riza and Black Hayate on the left rather on his right. "But I thought that…" he didn't finish the sentence.

First Lieutenant Hawkeye smiled at them. "Yes, well, we switched during the night."

The carefully blank gazes of his other men didn't quite meet his. If he were younger, or maybe if he weren't their commanding officer, he would have leapt up and shouted, "I hate you all!" Instead, he sat down, frowned, and tried his best to look dignified while his men were clearly trying not to laugh.

He glanced up at Riza and gave her a look.

She hid a smile and shrugged. "I tried calling you," she told him later. "But you were unreachable."

He rolled his eyes and finally let himself smile back, as they exited the small space. "Well, at least in my dreams it was someone different," he said, and found pleasure in the look she gave him.

"Just because I let you sleep on my shoulder doesn't mean you have other rights."

"Yes ma'am."

"Just as long as we're clear."

A guy could dream, though. He'd even learned to ignore the voices that threatened to break his illusions.

"We're clear," he answered.

He could dream.

**wasn't feeling angsty today. plus i'm writing this at the ER where some idiot just used a nailgun on himself. kinda ruins the angsty mood when you're pondering the stupidity in the world. (i work at the ER, btw. nobody died)**

** review, oh friend and foe, lest you ensnare thyself in the trap of uncaringnes...  
**


	18. 17 Scars

**I present to you serious non-angst :/ **

**Once again, I didn't feel angsty enough to write angst, but scars is too serious of a topic to write something light…so here ya are…**

** FYI epaulettes are the shoulder patches that soldiers wear to designate their rank.  
**

**017.** Scars

Roy Mustang was a military man, and though he spent days upon days of time working in the office continuously, tweaking strings to push himself forward like a battered marionette, he did have field duties. Any one of them, from bringing in a criminal to playing footsie with the Fuhrer was dangerous. Of course, some were more dangerous than others. Some left souvenirs.

Many complained about their scars—each one a blemish on their youth and beauty. He was lucky. Most of his, though painful when received, were easily forgotten, covered by a layer of cloth and hidden until he chose to show them.

He didn't mind his. After all, every scar told a story, and every story was like bits of his life, pinned onto his skin permanently.

Most of them were tales of his courage, this one gotten when they'd killed Lust, that one gotten back in Ishbal, and that small one near his shoulder when Riza hadn't been so good at aiming, though just as good at firing.

Hers…hers were different.

Hers were tales of her sorrow. Every mark on her body spoke of something that shouldn't have happened. The array on her back showed her complete helplessness as a girl. And then came the burn marks, as if she had tried to erase that time, or suppress it. She hadn't quite succeeded, for here and there a clear line of the array still remained.

There were numerous other marks on her body, the body of a soldier, not the simple woman she had once thought she'd be. There were the thin marks of a knife, when she had taken a blow for him that she shouldn't have. The story of an impossible devotion. There was the mark where she'd been shot, fighting an enemy she never should have met.

Shouldn't have, shouldn't have…shouldn't have…

But they were there.

All the wrong turns and the stupid mistakes, every single one of them on her body, a better testimony of her bravery than any medal or epaulette could give. Quietly sitting there, burning through the cover of that blue uniform, silent…

The pain had gone, but for a twinge when he least expected it. It wasn't painful to remember. The past advised caution, reminding him carefully of the cost of a mistake…two inches down, it would have been over her heart, a little to much fire, and she would have died from the burns, a little to the right, and the bullet would have tore through her stomach and bled her to death.

It wasn't pain he felt—just caution.

Because the scars reminded him that she was fragile, despite her indestructible appearance. That he could break her; that he could lose her.

The scars weren't meant to cause pain…they were a warning.

_Be careful_, they said to him, every time he caught a glimpse.

_She's human_.

**See? It can be done! Anyway, I like this one. So you should to. Or else I'll track you down using your IP addresses and poke you. Now if you don't review, I'll think that you hate me and I'll have to kill you. So the only way that you can avoid being killed is to review, right? See the logic? See the button?**


	19. 19 I don't want to realize

**Hi guys…betcha all thought I'd died, huh? Nah, I just hadn't felt like writing, and then I got stuck, and then I got busy. But here's something I cranked out today, on the weekend of finals, lol. Anyway, hope you've all been well, and sorry for the delay! **

**018.** "I don't want to realize" 

She sat there, watching him.

He looked at her hopefully.

"Is this…" she paused. "Is this what you want?" she finally asked, very carefully.

"More than anything," he replied quietly.

She blinked. _She _should have been what he wanted more than anything else in the world. "Even though you've nearly died this time?" she whispered, looking away from his determination.

"Yes."

She bit her lip quietly, the emotion all to apparent in her eyes for once in her life. She was hurt. She was weaker than he was, at least in this particular situation, on this particular day. She was wavering, though she had sworn that she wouldn't. She was holding him too tightly, though she had sworn he was free to do what was necessary.

She nodded carefully. "Well, then."

He nodded as well, and slumped quietly in the chair, wincing as the pain seared through the fresh wound.

They were too young for this, she argued desperately. They were so young to be fighting an entire country. She stood abruptly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her carefully. Riza Hawkeye did not slam doors.

Outside, it was cold, and she gulped in the frozen air desperately, trying to maybe freeze the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

"I don't want to know," she whispered hoarsely, "that he will put his life on the line every day…that he will suffer for this damn goal…that he might come out of this more twisted than he walked in."

But those were just excuses, only a fraction of the pain that she was feeling right now. Riza Hawkeye never lied to herself, she thought.

"I don't want to realize…that he'll put this damn mission…"

She trailed off, not wanting to say the words.

"Before me."

**Well, see ya until the next time I guess…please review—I haven't had one in so long…:'( (yeah i know, my fault, right?) **


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